Fair Game (The Rules 1)

The truth? She scared me. My reaction to her scared me. Instead of being a man and talking to her like a responsible adult, I ran like a little kid. Not that she called me or texted me in return. Knowing Jade, she’s most likely furious at me.

Not that I can blame her.

She’s all I can think about. All I want. I screwed this up royally and I don’t know how to make it right. But I freaked out. Freaked out so bad when all those overwhelming emotions came rushing at me…

Regret washes over me now, and I blow out a harsh breath, tell myself to get a grip. I’ll get over her. I will. I swear I will.

“You’re still twisted up over her, aren’t you?” Tristan shakes his head, his eyes full of…is that concern? Get outta here. “What the hell did she do to you anyway?”

Everything. She blew my mind. Rocked my world. Made me smile. Made me laugh. Made me want something I never considered possible.

A chance with a girl. A chance at a committed relationship, something that usually scared the hell out of me, and with good reason. Look at my parents—worst example of a supposed solid, loving relationship ever. They can barely tolerate each other. I don’t want that. I’d rather be alone.

Or so I thought. A few weeks with Jade and I want…more. Too much. I can’t do it. Can’t face it. Face her. So instead…

I pretended she didn’t exist like I’m some sort of callous, heartless asshole. Guess I’m just following in the steps of my dear old dad.

Inhaling deep, I clench my jaw, my fingers squeezing the cup so hard it crumples under my grip. I freaking hate myself for falling into the same old patterns. For not being man enough to face my fears and go for it.

Instead I’m alone as usual, at a stupid frat party and drowning my sorrows in cheap ass beer while hanging out with my stupid cousin who’s as much of a commitment-phobe as I am.

Life sucks.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” I finally say, offering Tristan a grim smile. “Is there anything harder in this house? I’ll need to drink an entire keg to get a buzz.”

Tristan laughs. “Yeah, man. I know where the secret stash is. You want something in particular?”

Would asking for an entire bottle of vodka seem too greedy? “Vodka. As much as you can find me,” I tell him instead.

“Got it. Give me a couple minutes.” Tristan tilts his head toward the crowd. “Why don’t you go mingle? It might do you some good.”

Mingling sounds like the stupidest idea ever. “I’ll hold up this wall, thanks.”

Tristan shakes his head, muttering something about dudes with no balls as he walks away.

Whatever. I can’t take offense. I am acting like a dude with no balls. All over a girl. Since when do I let a girl have so much power over me?

You’ve never met a girl like Jade before.

Isn’t that the truth?

I start to drink out of my crumpled cup when I remember it’s empty and I leave it on a nearby table. Hopefully Tristan remembers to bring me a cup along with that bottle of vodka. If he even brings a bottle. If not, I’m bailing. Seek out a liquor store and buy my own bottle of vodka I can nurse for the rest of the night.

Shit. I sound like a hopeless drunk.

Girls approach, one after another and I remain stoic. Bored as they try to talk to me, seemingly desperate to engage me in conversation. But I’m not having it. I’m cranky. Not interested. I shut every one of them down, one after the other, until they stop approaching and I’m alone once more, holding up the wall, waiting for Tristan, jonesing for a drink.

That’s when I think I spot her. It has to be her. I’d know that glorious fucking hair anywhere. I push away from the wall, my gaze locked on the spot across the room where I swear I saw her. Jade. The front room is packed full of people and the music is deafeningly loud. I start to push through the crowd, making my way toward the beacon that is her. I catch another glimpse of red hair, long and wavy, hanging down her back. Unbound, unrestrained, and my hands literally itch to touch it. Touch her.

It’s as if the crowd parts, like I’m Moses or some such shit, and there she is. Standing near the entryway of the kitchen, a red cup in her hand, her sexy-as-fuck lips stretched into a giant smile as she laughs at something her roommate Kelli says.

Not that I notice Kelli or anyone else for that matter. All I can see, all I can focus on, is Jade.

I stare at her like a starving man who just caught his first glimpse of a meal after going so long without. She’s wearing…good fucking lord I don’t know where she found those shorts but all I see is legs. Lots and lots of legs. Pale and long and firm, the denim cutoff shorts she has on barely cover her.

They should be fucking illegal.

The black tank top reminds me of the first time I saw her. She wore a black tank that night too and I fucking approve. Her tits look amazing—unbelievable I still haven’t seen them in their naked glory and that is one of the many serious regrets I have when it comes to Jade—and she pushes her hair off her shoulder, turning in my direction, her gaze meeting mine.

I stand up straighter, releasing a shuddering breath, trying my best to appear cool. Like I’ve got this. If I smile at her I’m afraid she’ll throw a fucking dagger at my chest. Hell, I already feel like a thousand daggers are stabbing me right in my heart just seeing her again like this. She’s so close yet so very, very far away.

She lifts her chin slightly, my ever defiant, ready for a fight Jade. Her eyes narrow the slightest bit—damn they look good, all dark and shadowy and sexy as fuck—and her lips curve downward for the briefest moment.